


Pushed as far as I can go

by Follevolo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, M/M, tube au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Follevolo/pseuds/Follevolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian meet on the tube. <br/>OR: I need to study and I am bored and I was listening to Linkin Park and yeah, it just happened. I don't remember any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushed as far as I can go

**Author's Note:**

> Summertime boredom. It's just a thing I had in mind and it's messy and shitty as usual, but you must be used to it by now. Just deal with me! <3

_(It starts with one)_

It had been a long night of rubbing his ass on strangers. Which on a fine day, would piss off anyone. But on a Monday, a row, cold, stressful Monday when your joke of a father decides to storm in your bedroom and wake everyone up puking in your little brother’s bed, when your big sister can’t find a job and your big brother is in God knows what new kind of trouble, it was just too much. He knew drinking with his meds was absolutely out of question, just as much as weed was. He had no escape, no dark corner to hide. But he needed something. He needed a moment of rest from that shit of a life, a moment of rescue, just to feel his body melt for a moment and his mind to float in nothingness.

The tube was empty, and Ian smiled to himself, embracing the moment of quietness fate was sending him. He chose the song, and closed his eyes.

 _Time is a valuable thing_  
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings  
Watch it count down to the end of the day  
The clock ticks life away

 

*

_(It’s so unreal)_

His father was a psychotic prick. That had been established a lot of years ago. His brothers were useful as jellyfishes or mosquitoes. They were slow, dumb, and unpredictably stupid.

So he just went for it by himself, not like it was that big of a deal. He always ended up alone. Sell this, buy that. Hide the shit, take the money. Avoid trouble, avoid people.

At the end of the day, he was alone on the tube. And being alone, again, even in a place where usually you basically need to breathe strangers’ skin, was a little too much loneliness for a day.

And then he saw this guy, laying with his long body occupying something like five seats. His eyes were closed, his mouth singing silently, all his body lost in music, moving slightly but firmly in rhythm.

He stared at him for a few seconds. He had red hair and freckles all over his face, and an expression that tasted like innocence and tasted like trouble, and he found himself to like it a little too much for his own safety.

He was not alone, after all. He smiled to himself, feeling this strange warmth in his chest he was not used to; something like finding home. He put his own headphones in his ears and started mumbling the words in low, imperceptible sounds.

_I kept everything inside_

_and even though I tried,_

_it all fell apart_

_What it meant to be_

_will eventually_

_be a memory_

_of a time when_

*

Ian didn’t open his eyes to acknowledge the presence of another human being in front of him. He didn’t want to break his moment of peace. But since he was Southside, and it was 3 am, and he just couldn’t ignore the scent of weed and cigarettes that had suddenly filled the small space, he decided to stop the music for a second and check if there was trouble.

He heard a guy mumble something that sounded familiar. His voice was low, ruffled. Beautiful. He felt his lips stretch in a smile, as he followed him on the next line.

 _I tried so hard_  
And got so far  
But in the end  
It doesn’t even matter

Mickey looked at the guy like a second head had suddenly popped out of his neck. What the actual fuck was happening?

The guy had his eyes still stubbornly closed, but he was smiling playfully and he had on him the clear tension of someone who knew he was being stared at. Mickey didn’t know if this was the oddest fortuity – he didn’t believe in fate anyway. But there was something about his face, the way his lips moved caressing words, the way his fingers flew in the air playing an imaginary keyboard.

He just wanted them on himself.

And then he opened his eyes, and green early leaves was all he could see.

*

Ian took in the image of the guy sitting in front of him without letting the smile fall off his face. His eyes wandered on his sharp jaw, on the cigarette stuck between his lips, on his fingers scratching lightly the tip of his nose. His blue eyes. Bluer than anything that ever existed on earth. Like – nothing in nature or human’s mind would ever be bluer than Mickey’s blue eyes.

The song was over, and they stood silently there, scanning each other without saying a word. Another song had begun in Mickey’s ears and he wondered if he would know that too, but felt too ridiculous to try.

«I choose the next one» Ian said, jokingly.

«Fuck off, weirdo» Mickey muttered, holding in a smile.

«Oh, don’t fight against fate, c’mon»

«He believes in fate» Obviously.

«I don’t believe in anything, but I’m not against it either. It could be fate. It  could be something else. It’s something, though, right?»

«What the fuck are you talking about?» Mickey bit his bottom lip and stirred uncomfortably on his seat.

He didn’t answer.

 

_We’re always sleeping in,_

_and sleeping for the wrong team_

 

 Mickey rolled his eyes.The mischievous little shit.

«At least choose something that doesn’t hurt my ears, man»

«Not a FOB fan?»

«They’re a bunch of punks»

«And you’re not, uh?»

Ian smirked at him, so naturally, so casually, Mickey felt like they’ve known each other since forever.

And they forever would. 


End file.
